


war talons and reading glasses

by cmndr shrillsqueak (HorribleDynne)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Fairy Tale Logic, M/M, Rating May Change, Transformers as Humans, local librarian becomes a furry, lots of background shipping, ratchet easily seduced by dumb cowboy wiles, rating will probably change at least a little, slowburny? yeah, this tag list will get way bigger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2020-06-30 11:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19852360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorribleDynne/pseuds/cmndr%20shrillsqueak
Summary: he didn't call for adventure in the great wide somewhere, but that adventure called to him.an enchanted castle, a cursed king, and perhaps a little more than orion pax ever really bargained for when he and ratchet bought that suspiciously cheap library in a tiny town in the corner of nothing.





	1. orion pax

**Author's Note:**

> i physically cannot bring my fingers to write robots yet so we're starting with baby steps ok, pls treat me gentle i've never written transformers fic before fhfhfhfh
> 
> the tag list is gonna be pretty big so instead of just slamming every single character who's gonna show up i'm just gonna add them as need be, aside from the main couple of course, megs gets special treatment. big tag lists intimidate me so i hope to amend that w people by doing it slowly lol.
> 
> anyways this is exactly what you think it is, i love beauty and the beast 1991 and was struck by this idea and it wouldn't go away. 
> 
> special thanks to ancalagondrakka who has spitballed with me and listened to me ramble about this and also generally fueled the sudden intense need for me to consume transformers prime and this ship.

_ … particularly harsh winters following a long fall have been common and can continue to be expected. Farmers should keep a close watch on their livestock, lest wolves or the Beast devour them in the night… a well trained hound is a must… _

Orion closed the book with a slightly dusty thud, blinking and waving away the particles before he slid the farmers almanac back in its place. “I feel like a very imaginative child got a hold of these,” he murmured, shaking his head, “and got his parents in on the joke.” The third book to mention a ‘Beast’- and as he glanced upon the many bound, ragged books on the shelf, all labeled,  _ Iacon Farmers Almanac _ (the only difference being the dates), Orion suspected plenty more brought up the mysterious creature. Shrugging, breathing in the musty air, he turned away from the town archives and thought he might reward himself by thumbing through the fables. Orion stepped over several piles of books, assorted into various piles dedicated to their current and rather sorry states. Yellowed pages, faded ink, mouldy spines, some books hardly held together by any glue at all. He’d tackled the important shelves first, working backwards from history and census’ and onwards.  


The library in question had been abandoned for several years, and at some point a storm had blown through and blown a tree limb through a window. Thusly, there was water damage, and worms, and moths, and a distinct sort of mouldy smell that made Orion’s dear little heart ache for those books. There was an upstairs living area with two small bedrooms, a kitchen, and a basement where Ratchet unfortunately preferred to work.  


Above him, he heard the floor creak and groan with steady footsteps. Orion stepped out of the walls made of books and precariously stacked journals and into the main hallway of the bottom floor.  


“Tell me old friend, when you got the deed for this library,” Orion called up, long legs carrying him through the room to the staircase to greet his ruddy-haired roommate, “were you aware of it’s condition?” His eyes sparkled with light amusement, raising a brow.  


“Well, when I bought this place, I thought I’d get away from nosy police officers.” Ratchet waved a hand, pushing back long white flecked hair from his face, trying it back in a messy ponytail. “Have you realized this town is an entirely new type of nosey, Orion?”  


“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it.”  


Ratchet scoffed, brows flicking upward. “I’ve had enough of people asking me if I’ve burnt the house down, Orion. It’s like they think I don’t know what I’m doing.” he brushed past Orion, before he spun and pointed a vindictive finger, “I know you like staying busy as much as I do. It’s…” It was very hard for Ratchet to admit he was wrong. “I didn’t think this was suspiciously cheap, anyways.”

Orion glanced at the hastily repaired windows and grimaced at the water damaged wood. Then, offered a slight smile, “By the way, I’m running out of that glue you made me…”

“Oh, yes, let me get right on that.” rolling his eyes, Ratchet shrugged a shoulder. “On top of everything else I’ve been pestered to do-”   
  
“Pestered?”

Ratchet made a noise and gestured with his arms. “Yes, pestered! You say you were a doctor and everyone wants you to, to,” a stutter, licking his lips, “look at their horse! Or their cow! Or that dog bite they got three weeks ago.” shoulders falling dramatically, “Or worse, they just want to bother you with questions.”

“Oh, no, gods forbid.” Orion slung a brawny arm around Ratchet, squeezing firmly to keep the frantic man in place, “people like you.”  


Ratchet squinted, a worn and freckled face that was pretty used to making this expression. The light made the slight difference between his eyes all the more noticable. One blue, one green. “They don’t like me,” he made a fruitless attempt to get Orion’s arm off of him, “they like that they can ask me to do errands.”  


Ignoring the way Ratchet dug his heels into the worn wood panelling, Orion began striding forward, keeping a vice grip around his neck. Ratchet stumbled forward with a grumble. “I need more twine from the market today, maybe there will be some glue as well. Or, perhaps,” his free hand gestured, eyes sparkling with grim amusement, “trotters for sale. I’ll make some glue myself.”  


“Yes, that sounds wonderful, now let me go.”

“You need to get out of the house, old friend. If I left you here, you’d be in the basement all day.”

“That’s exactly the point. I’m working, alone, and am very productive.”  


Orion swung the door open with an aching creak, tromping down the worn stairs, Ratchet stumbling behind him. Kicking the door shut as he released the doctor, he gestured grandly. The countryside library, surrounded by dottings of oak and birch trees, their leaves brilliant orange and red. The fields stretched out, until it became woods entirely, flaming leaves set against a dusky blue early morning sky. “It’s a beautiful morning.” Orion reached forward and took Ratchets’ worn, scarred hands. “Just one trip to town.”  


“Bah.” Ratchet squeezed Orion’s hands in response and began to trudge forward, slipping out of his grip.  


Orion boomed out a short laugh and strode to walk sidelong to his friend. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dirt path melded into cobblestone as they approached the village together, well worn and scuffed. There were very few other people out just yet, aside from the bakers and shopkeepers, the early risers and farmers with their wares to hawk. Given a few hours, Orion knew well how the small streets could become a claustrophobic crush of bodies and livestock.  


“See, it’s not so bad.” He nudged Ratchet, who merely grunted softly. “It does you good to get out of the house.” Ratchet opened his mouth to respond, probably sarcastically, but he didn’t get that chance.

“Well, if it ain’t the city kitties.” called a deep, drawling voice. Ratchet froze and spun on his heel, and would have walked away outright had Orion not shot an arm out and grabbed him by the wrist. “Can’t believe you dragged Sunshine out of the house, been ‘few days since I’ve seen ‘im.”  


Ratchet grabbed Orion’s firm hand in a feeble attempt to wrench it off, groaning. “Orion, let me go- and don’t call me ‘sunshine’, I have a name!”

“Wheeljack.” Orion smiled broadly, glancing apologetically at Ratchet, before he approached the stall. Wheeljack was a handsome fellow; on the short and stocky side, skin dark with work, black hair stuck out like he hadn’t done much after rolling out of bed. He spread his hands open, an easy and lopsided grin on his features, then leaned forward.  


“What can I do ya for, Pax?” A pause, slowly turning his brilliant blue gaze to Ratchet, “Sunshine?”  


Ratchet finally managed to wrangle his wrist free, rubbing it and shooting Orion, then Wheeljack, a nasty look. “I don’t know any ‘sunshine’, and if you’ll excuse me-”  


Orion sighed. “Ratchet, please…”  


“Don’t please me, I didn’t come here to,” sputtering, gesticulating, “to be bothered by a farm boy.”

Wheeljack’s brows raised, straightening his back as his spur-heeled boots clinked on the cobble.. “Farm boy? Now, if you’re still mad about Jackhammer kickin’ you into the water trough, she’s real sorry ‘bout that.”

“Sorry? She laughed at me-”

“She’s a horse, Sunshine, she can’t laugh.”  


“Well, then she can’t be sorry, either!”

They had both stood forward now, Wheeljack leaning on his table, Ratchet’s shoulders drawn. Orion licked his lips nervously and patted his old friend’s arm, gently stepping closer to interrupt the argument. “Wheeljack! You can do me for some twine. O-or, maybe glue.” he put on his best tooth gapped smile, squeezing Ratchet’s arm out of sight.  


“Twine, huh. Yeah, I got some ‘o that.” Wheeljack amended, pushing back and beginning to sort through what he had brought with him. Boxes of eggs, bushels of late fall produce, wool, and a few spools of thick twine. “Discount if I can get a smile out of Sunshine.” He winked, and the only just relaxing redhead bristled right up again.  


“Why you-”

“Please give my old friend a rest, he can only take so much excitement.”

Shrugging, the brawny farmhand set the spool down. “Better work fast on them books, winters down here ain’t pleasant.”

Orion nodded, digging in his purse for a handful of coins. “I’ll keep that in mind. We both will.” Paying, then, he turned to Ratchet and gave his arm another pleasant squeeze to his arm and took his twine, tucking it in his satchel. “Thank you, Wheeljack. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon.”  


The dark haired man dipped his head, offering Orion and Ratchet one last easygoing look (winking at Ratchet, making him sputter and point fingers, stalling behind to grouse him.) This time, Orion didn’t pester Ratchet to follow him, glancing back as Wheeljack was setting out his wares calmly. He had to think a part of Ratchet enjoyed the bickering. He slipped deeper into town, working to the center of Iacon. More and more bodies were starting to move about, and there was a distinct mix of scents in the air. Bread, livestock, people.  


It almost wasn’t any different from the bustling city he came from. Really, Orion thought, the only difference was the niceties. The pleasant bubble of water caught his attention amidst the growing noise. He traced his hand over the towns’ fountain, cracked and weather worn, but still standing. Orion settled himself down along its edge and lay back, closing his eyes for a moment to think.  


He was still short on glue, of course, but the entire library was a process. Town records were his top priority, and while he’d taken care of at least two shelves worth of books, Orion’s mind drifted back to the piles upon piles he’d already set aside for further fixing.  


Approaching footsteps had Orion popping an eye open, quickly sitting upright. “Are you done, Ratchet- oh!” The clean cut, scarred man before him was definitely not Ratchet. “Hello, Silas.” Orion shifted, grunting as he popped his back, then blinked gratefully when a hand was offered to him. “Thank you.”  


Silas helped get Orion to his feet and nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets as he looked over him with consideration. “Good to see you, Orion. Staying busy?”  


“Oh, yes, quite!” Orion dusted his sweater off and smiled. “Ratchet and I have been shopping for a few supplies, enjoying the morning before we get back to work.” Silas was a military sort of man, decorated and confident and very curious about most things going about the town; especially its new inhabitants. Orion chose to believe he was merely kindly interested in the new and shiny and said interest would wane. Ratchet had instantly disliked Silas’ prying and chose to ignore him gruffly. 

Silas hummed in response, falling into step with Orion as he began moving through the steadily growing morning crowd. “An inventor, isn’t he? Ratchet, I mean.” While he  _ asked _ about Ratchet, Orion could see he was certainly focusing on him. Lingering gazes on his body, watching attentively as they spoke. Orion tingled a little under the attention, the back of his neck prickling with warmth. “I’ve heard rumors he’s seen quite a bit of trouble with the things he’s made.”

“Oh, does his reputation proceed him? We’re just a couple of city folk looking for a change. A bit of peace and quiet.” He said vaguely, offering a smile that betrayed nothing.  


“Isn’t that just what everyone is looking for.” Silas smiled thinly, looking ahead. Orion lapsed into silence, peering over the tops of heads in his search for Ratchet. He couldn’t possibly still be arguing with Wheeljack. Already quite tall, standing on his tip-toes, he squinted to spot the greying red hair. There, sidling along the buildings, clearly trying to return to their cabin, scowling as he was jostled about by the crowd of folks that had amassed.  


“Ratchet!” Orion took a step forward, jumping slightly and waving. “Ratche-” the tip of his boot caught an uneven cobblestone, voice catching in his throat and warbling to a cry as he suddenly lurched forward, ground zooming toward him.  


Ah. Cracking his skull open on the muddy streets of a little town named Iacon. If it didn’t kill him, it would be a good way to ruin his entire week.

Instead of hitting the ground, though, Orion felt his flailing arm be grabbed. His world spun, he flinched as he was yanked into Silas’ chest. “Oh.” he panted softly, heart pounding from the adrenaline, blood roaring in his ears. “Oh my. Thank you.” Faintly, he could hear Ratchet’s voice calling to him from the crowd, growing closer.

Silas smirked, patting Orion’s sides before he released him, though he did not pull his hand away. He brought his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles with an amused glint to his eyes. “Better be more careful.”  


Orion’s eyes went wide as he slowly pulled his wrist away, Ratchet finally breaking through the herd of townfolk. “There you are!” He spun around with a smile to greet Ratchet, relieved to have him nearby again. “I don’t expect you of all people to go wandering off, Orion.” Ratchet’s mismatched eyes glanced and narrowed at Silas.

“You just seemed a bit… preoccupied, I thought I’d leave you to Wheeljack…” Sparing one last glance and shy wave at Silas, Orion slipped away with his friend, rubbing his hand, brows furrowed as he pondered.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time the sun set and neither the candlelight nor his glasses could assist him as he attempted to finish threading a book, Orion had began dinner. It was an hour or two more before Ratchet joined him, rubbing his eyes and temples. The small dining room was easier to light, a crackling fire sending dancing shadows over the walls, and illuminated the book Orion had taken up with him. He pushed his reading glasses up his nose and hummed sympathetically at Ratchet.  


“You ever get tired of looking through books?” asked Ratchet.

“Do you ever get tired of healing people?” Orion quirked a brow, and Ratchet shrugged with one shoulder, shaking his head.  


“Tired of people, maybe. But not helping.”

Orion turned the page. “Besides, there are some lovely historical accounts down there. And the fables, my. There is something about the lonely little towns, they have some interesting legends.”  


Ratchet snorted, pushing away from the table. “Like they got anything better to do with their time, huh?” He yawned, and Orion felt a flush of relief as he turned to his bedroom.  


“Get some rest, old friend.”  


“Yeah, yeah. I know.”  


The door clicked shut. Orion looked out the window, to the woods, and the moonless sky. Wings moved against the stars, fluttering figures disguised by the dark, indiscernible from bats or owls. Then, he turned back to the book.  


_ Changelings. Wolpertinger. Mare. Lindworms, black dogs, the Beast. _

Now there was a familiar word. He let out a soft, considerate hum as he flipped to the appropriate page.  


He touched his fingers to an illustration like stained glass, immortalizing a creature almost a bear, yet greater. A slavering maw, curled horns. Blood red eyes. Thickets of bramble and rose vines curled around its legs, surrounded by smoke, blood, and war. As firelight danced over the page, its eyes seemed to glow and its body seemed to heave with great shuddering breaths.  


_ “It is said that long ago, a war raged across this land, led by a powerful king. In an effort to turn the tides in his favor, the king sought to strike a deal with a great faerie.” _

Orion had a feeling that would not turn out well, admiring the illustrations that showed a regal looking man, flanked by various soldiers. It was a simple tale of corruption, first of mind, then of body. A warning, perhaps, or most likely, the excited tale of someone who had not seen a bear in the countryside in many years. Maybe it had escaped a circus. Still, Orion thought, blinking bleary eyes, it was a shame. The next image had the fae pointing vindictively at the king, who held a dark and bloody sword.  


_ “...The fey cursed the king. His rage had turned him into nothing more than a frothing dog, seeking death and gore, and so he became the animal they saw in him. Repulsive, ferocious.  _

_ Magic tethered the king to the castle, able only to wander shortly out of the enchanted forest that surrounded it. His staff, never heard from again.  _

_ The fey promised that love would break the kings’ curse. But they knew, as did the king, that he was beyond love.”  _

Orion quietly closed the book, setting it upon the chipped wooden table. So that was the Beast. A sordid little tale of fae and kings. He wondered why small town lore ran so glum. A cold wind rattled the autumnal branches outside. The snap of a log cracking under the heat of the fire startled him out of his stupor. Stretching, slowly, rubbing his heavy eyes, Orion realized it was high time he retired to his bed as well, and stood with a soft groan and the creaking of old bones.  


Those blood red eyes danced in his mind as he slept, with a bellowing howl that could rattle bones and claws that crushed stone and bodies and whatever else lay in its path. 


	2. provincial problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after wolves injure jackhammer, it's the perfect time to rally some concerned townsfolk and drown your sorrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant get my aahptimus in so this will have to do
> 
> thank you for the comments and kudos! i'm really excited people are liking this!

His workstation, a long wooden desk set right under one of the unbroken windows of the library, was  _ not _ cluttered.  


It was getting there, though.

One book, cover-less, still held tightly in the press as the glue dried, a small pile of signatures- groups of pages that made up the entire book- bits of dust and sewing needles. Spools of thin thread, thick twine, scalpels, a handheld saw. Orion rubbed his eyes and set his glasses upon his nose. Goodness. This was a fire hazard.  


Ratchet had already disappeared into the basement by the time he had woken up. As much as he hated that he preferred to work in the dark, isolated room, a part of Orion was relieved that he didn’t have to worry about the wrenches and metallic bits and bobs lying about. Orion threaded a needle and scooted his chair up. Gingerly pulling a stack of signatures close, he thumbed quickly through them to make sure everything was in order. Satisfied that it was, he smiled to himself before he began to sew.

He fell into a steady rhythm, only pausing to re-adjust his glasses and stretch out his wrist. The sun occasionally disappeared behind the clouds, and the mid fall trees were swaying in steady wind outside. Orion considered dinner, or perhaps lunch, as he weaved needle between pages. He thought about the window he and Ratchet had yet to fix. The books he still had to fix. The ones in tact he could still read. The little book of folklore and that creature with burning eyes.  


A knock on the door startled him, needle poking into his index finger.

“Ah.” Orion frowned. “Coming!” He wiped the blood off haphazardly on his pants leg and hurried to the door. It opened slowly, and a sullen-faced Wheeljack met Orion’s expectant gaze.

“Is Ratchet home?” He spoke with an urgent edge to his tone. There was blood on his white sleeves.

Oh. Shifting from side to side, Orion licked his lips. “I-I, yes. Let me get him, he’s in the basement.”  


Wheeljack shook his head and turned to the wooden doors on the side of the house as Orion scrambled from behind the door. He gave them a sound kick and called out. “Ratchet!”  


The doors swung open much faster than Orion would have given the cranky doctor credit for, especially coming from Wheeljack. Ratchet was slightly sooty, wiping his face off. It only succeeded in smearing what was there. “What?” Absent of glares and bluster, just furrowed brows and a frown of concern.  


“Wolf attack. Look at Jackhammer’s injuries fer me.” Inhale. “Please.”

Ratchet grunted and inclined his head, disappearing to grab his medical supplies. Climbing out not long after and blinking in the sunlight, he turned to Orion. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” Shouldering his medical supplies, he brushed by Wheeljack gently, starting down the cobblestone trail.

Orion could only nod, feeling a little taken aback. He looked down at Wheeljack’s bloody shirt and his stomach twisted. “Wheeljack, I’m sorry.” He called after them as they began hurrying away, feeling more than a little useless.  


“You can come gawk if you really want to. Not like everyone else ain’t.” Wheeljack mumbled, trailing close to Ratchet’s side and not pausing to see if the brunete would follow them at all. Ratchet pursed his lips and shrugged a shoulder, then leaned in to speak quietly to Wheeljack.

Shifting weight from foot to foot, Orion felt like a hesitant dog for a moment while he debated to follow up on Wheeljack’s remark. It would be rude. He didn’t even like blood. He thought about the look in the farmers’ eyes. He could deal with upset people. Orion had never minded being a shoulder to cry on.  


Steeling his nerve with a deep breath, he began to follow them at a distance.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

True to Wheeljack’s words, a small crowd had gathered at the scene of the crime, as it were. Orion glanced over the surroundings.  


The barbed wire fence had been torn, bits of blood and fur caught in the sharp spurs. Blood speckled the dying grass. His eyes followed the trail of blood as it lead into the yawning forest, branches snapped and bushes flattened, like something large and heavy had been dragged. Wheeljack was soothing Jackhammer, who’s white fur glistened with blood along her haunches. Orion’s stomach churned and he focused on Bulkhead instead.

“What happened?”

Bulkhead was at that stage of having just finished crying, but would (and could) start again with little prompting. Orion pursed his lips and reached out, squeezing his wide shoulder sympathetically. “Elsie was my best cow.” Was his answer, breathing in deeply with another glance at the torn fence.  


Blinking, as the words sunk in, Orion’s face fell. “Oh.” Elsie had been a tawny heffer. He remembered meeting her not long after arriving to Iacon, when Wheeljack had decided he was going to make Ratchet go prematurely grey, and had dragged the both of them to the shared farm. Orion had been bitten by more mosquitoes than he ever had in his entire life in the short moments he was near the cows. But Elsie had accepted a scratch behind the ears and blinked plaintively at Orion before pushing her very snotty and very wet nose into his sweater. It left a very snotty and very wet mark. She had been a nice cow. “Oh, not Elsie.”  


“Yeah.” Bulkhead’s voice wavered a little and he slumped. “Jackhammer did great, but by the time me ‘n Jackie got out here, the wolves were gone with Elsie.”  


Orion swallowed the lump in his throat as he glimpsed briefly again at the white horse, and the long scores that had bloodied her. Wheeljack held her reins and kept her domed head pressed close to his chest as Ratchet worked quickly to clean the wound. She snorted and twitched and let out quiet whinnies, ears flicking back. He whispered something to her, expression wrought.  


“Bulkhead!” A few proactive folks were beginning to pick up the massive fence posts and untangle the barbed wire. “You want to help us? It’s the least we can do for ya right now.”

Glancing at him, as if for permission, Bulkhead straightened up a little bit. “If you don’t mind-”

“Oh, no, not at all!” Orion waved his hands and smiled warmly. “If… you’d ever like to talk, though, I’d be happy to listen.” he shook the mans’ larger hand firmly, saw Bulkhead relax and return his smile. Letting him go to help with the fence repairs, Orion took a few steps back.  


Jackhammer’s wounds had been cleaned, and she looked a little less rough around the edges for it. Squinting, Orion saw the wounds more clearly; four long scores, from mid-thigh down to her rump. Ratchet was pushing a few bottles into Wheeljack’s hands and pointing at the labels and speaking very sternly in that not-very-bedside manner way he had. Orion smiled just briefly before he found himself leaning against the cool stone house. Those of the crowd who had truly only gathered to gawk still milled about nearby, and were whispering amongst themselves. Orion caught bits and pieces as they brushed by him.  


“Already hunting-”

“-- tore through the fence--”

“-- almost killed a horse!”

“What is going on here?”  


Orion’s head snapped up in surprise at the familiar voice, spotting Silas making his way to the head of the commotion. He walked with a purpose, head held high with arms behind his back, glancing briefly at the crowd, then the blood speckled ground.

“Wolves.” Someone whispered, rueful and unsure. “Look at what they’ve done!”

Silas inclined his head in consideration, before gesturing out into the forest with a grunt. “We’ll just have to drive them back. They’re desperate wolves, who may very well have eaten through all the deer in that forest!” a few alarmed looks, “If any of you brave men would like to accompany me,” Silas crossed his arms, “We can begin giving those beasts something to think about.” Surveying the crowd as he spoke in confidence, he regarded each man as if he was assessing their abilities then and there. “We can discuss this more at the tavern tonight,” Silas’ grey gaze flicked briefly to Orion, blinking in surprise, “Until then, carry on.”

Orio offered a little smile, pushing off the wall as Silas strode to him. “I didn’t expect to see you at a scene like this, Orion. Interested in seeking the wolves out, are we?”

“Oh, no,” Orion shook his head, “I am a bit squeamish, Ratchet was just called off in a hurry and I got worried.” He swallowed. “I certainly couldn’t… do any  _ hunting _ .”  


“Don’t tell me you pity the wolves.” Silas raised a brow, snorting.  


Orion could only shrug meekly. “They are only doing what they must.” He said.

“As are we.”  


Considering that, Orion hummed. “You’re a very driven man, Silas.”

That earned him a crooked, though genuine, smirk. “Some of us have to be, Orion.” He said, expression softening slightly. “For everyone’s sake.”

Orion saw something--a hand--waving behind Silas’ shoulder before he could think of a response and noticed Ratchet. He waved frantically again, scowling. Then, he tapped his wrist, impatient. “Oh, excuse me, Silas. I have to be getting back home, I think.” Pushing off the wall, Orion gave his old friend a placating smile and moved to join him as the doctor began tapping his foot.

A firm hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Orion blinked, startled, and turned to Silas with a questioning frown. “Silas?”  


He cleared his throat. “You ought to come to the tavern with me tonight.” Silas cocked his head and hummed, a sure and suave grin upon his face. “After we figure out what to do with the wolves, well, it’s a whole night of drinking…” He winked.

Orion felt his ears grow warm and he laughed. “Oh, I couldn’t, I’m a lightweight. No fun.” Ratchet threw his hands up in the air and began stomping off, in Orion’s peripheral. “And, anyways, I have a few books I’d really like to finish tonight…”  


“Ah. Another time, maybe.” Silas murmured, pursing his lips together into a curt smile before he let Orion truly go this time. Orion had to run to catch up to a miffed Ratchet.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know you’re flirting with danger there.” Was the first thing out of Ratchet’s mouth when he did, finally, reach his side. Panting. They were already almost to their home.

The accusation made Orion cough, what little oxygen he had escaping his lungs once more. “Ratchet!” Orion let out a scandalized gasp, high pitched and wheezy..  


“Uh-rion!” Ratchet snapped right back, snorting. “You might not think so, but him?” He shook his head. “He thinks you’re a catch.” Raising a brow, the red haired man nudged Orion. “What did he stop you for, anyway?”

Orion rolled his eyes. “Now, Ratchet… He only asked me to go drinking with him tonight. I said no, I’m just no fun when I’m drunk.”

“That’s debatable.”

Orion pouted. “And, besides, I want to read a few more things.” Ratchet sighed and shook his head. Orion flushed in indignation. Two could play at that game. “Oh? If we’re going to talk about flirting, don’t think I haven’t noticed you and Wheeljack.”

Ratchet’s freckled face flared red, and he bumped into Orion roughly. “Absolutely not, he’s a scoundrel, a, ah,” Orion smirked at the stuttering, “farm boy. Obnoxious.”  


“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move so fast before, when he called you Ratchet today.” Orion continued, nonplussed. “Not even for me!”

“When he can manage to remember I have a name, I know he’s being serious.”  


He let it drop with a quiet, thoughtful hum, giving Ratchet one more smugly knowing look, kicking the mud off his boots as they tramped up the stairs. “How was Jackhammer?” Orion asked instead as they lapsed into a brief silence. Ratchet wrangled the creaky oak door open and sighed, following Orion inside.  


“She’ll be fine. Almost kicked me a few more times today.” He kicked his boots off and undid his ponytail, shaking out long hair. “Told Wheeljack to keep her off work and clean it every day. Of course,” he chewed the inside of his mouth, “I’m not much of a vet, but…”  


“I think he appreciates your input.” Orion smiled, patting Ratchet’s shoulders and giving them a firm rub. Ratchet sighed and leaned into his palms. “In fact, I think, he enjoys our presence.”

Ratchet grunted, closing his eyes. “He was going to take Bulkhead to the bar tonight.” he muttered. There was a longer pause, and Orion wondered if he was falling asleep being massaged. “Asked me to. Come along.” Ratchet said even quieter, squeezed out through clenched teeth.  


Orion’s brows flew up. “And?” he prodded gently, unable to keep himself from grinning. He could hardly recall the last time Ratchet had gone out on his own- well. With someone who wasn’t Orion. And Orion could admit to himself that he perhaps wasn’t the most entertaining bar crawl companion.  


“And I will be leaving at sunset today. Just for a little while.”

Orion squeezed his shoulders firmly and stepped back. “Oh, don’t worry about it! You should have fun!”  


“Well I’m no spring chicken anymore either. I don’t need to be out all night.”

“I bet you could find it in you.”  


He snorted. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Orion?”

“What was that you called yourself? Mad Doctor? You punched someone, you know.”

Ratchet pushed him lightly. “I did not!”

Grabbing his hands and holding them tight, the brunete laughed and shook his head. “I mean it, Ratchet. Have fun. You deserve to relax!”  


Ratchet brushed him off with an amused smile. “I’m getting washed, it’s always so unbelievably dirty down in the farms.”  


Orion let him go, finding his way back to his trusty work station in the meantime. Perhaps he would get one more book sewn up today after all. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bar was warm and rowdy, lit dimly by lanterns upon the support beams and one roaring blaze in the far corner. Shadows of the various hunting trophies danced upon the walls, long and twisted, along with the animated shadow of a slightly drunken Silas. He stood before the fire, a small crowd of those Ratchet had seen at Bulkhead’s farm. He appeared to be regaling them with some old war story.  


Ratchet scoffed into the foam of his beer before he took another sip.  


“Now that guy, he’s always been a showpony.” Wheeljack snorted derisively, turning to face Ratchet.

“Do you happen to have a zoo of animal related phrases?” Ratchet asked.  


The dark haired man gave him a charming smile. “Maybe.” Finishing off his flask, he leaned back in the chair with a sigh. “You drink as much as ya like, Sunshine. I’m payin’ for all this.” A firm hand whacked Ratchet over the shoulder and nearly made him spill his beer. Ratchet glared. “Sorry.”  


Bulkhead was three drinks in and already dozing. Wheeljack ruffled his hair and hummed, chuckling when his arm was lazily pawed away. “You too, buddy. You deserve it.”

Watching out of the corner of his eye, Ratchet cracked a brief smile before he finished off his beer. “I think you can forget about him.” Nudging Wheeljack expectantly, he saw his eyes brighten in amusement when he saw Ratchet’s empty flask.  


“Damn, alright, didn’t think you’d be this hard to get hammered.”  


“What, you think a ‘city kitty’,” air quotes, for emphasis, “would be a lightweight?”

Wheeljack shrugged and waved the barkeep over. “Maybe. Course, you manage to surprise me sometimes.” He looked Ratchet up and down. “I guess you’re not terrible company.”  


Ratchet’s hands suddenly felt rather clammy and he stared distractedly into his beer and gulped down a quarter in one go.  


“Wheeljack!” Silas’ voice cut through their personal silence, making a grand gesture. Fire blazed behind him, drunken farmers peered over their shoulders to stare at the trio. “Aren’t you going to join us?” There were some cheers and hollers. “After all, we’ll be hunting for your honor!”  


Wheeljack shrugged, fingers drumming the wooden, chipped bar. “I’m on doctors orders to keep a close eye on good ol’ Jackhammer until that wound looks better.”

“Is it going to lame her?”  


Wheeljack’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his beer tighter. “It’ll take more than that to get my girl down. Don’t you worry, Silas,” he drank deeply, “if any of those mongrels show their ugly faces again, it’ll be staring down the barrel of my gun.”

Ratchet saw Silas shrug, turn away. A few farmers booed and waved Wheeljack off. 

“She’ll be fine.” He said after a tense moment had passed.  


Wheeljack’s shoulders slumped. “I know she will.”  


Bumping their arms together, the doctor offered a brief smile. “Drink up. Drowning sorrows was your idea, remember.”  


Wheeljack blinked. “You _ can  _ smile.” Before Ratchet could bluster, he chuckled. “S’nice.”

Bulkhead snored.  


Ratchet and Wheeljack knocked their flasks together, and drank till Silas’ voice faded deep into the background until they were slumping shoulder-to-shoulder, blearily watching the shadows on the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't plan on switching pov a lot, but it will probably happen from time to time as needed!


	3. Be Our Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet goes into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANARCHISM STEW THE CASTLE AND I'M SORRY I HAVE A NONEXISTANT UPDATE SCHEDULE but we're getting to the exciting stuff! Yahoo! and the entire crux of this fic, which was me going 'oh hey starscream and knock out would be great as cogsworth and lumiere' 
> 
> this one is way less self-beta'd than all the other ones but i just wanted to get this guy finished. orion and the beast finally meet next chapter ;3

Orion blinked as a raindrop landed on his nose, clutching his small stack of books closer to his chest as he frowned up at the ceiling. The barn creaked ominously with a gust of wind, the heady scent of barn animals intense. He dodged another drip. Wrapping his cloak around his precious cargo, Orion stepped away from the leak, feeling his heart stutter anxiously.   
  
A shrill whinny startled him out of focus, echoing around the barn. He heard a clatter, a thump, and some loud cursing. 

“Ratchet?” He called hesitantly. 

“Fine, I’m fine!”

“Sorry, doc.” 

Orion licked his lips and tottered over, peering into the stall. It was crowded already. Bulkhead and Wheeljack struggled to keep Jackhammer still, knuckles white as they held fast onto the horses reins. Ratchet, previously crouching, had stood suddenly, eyes stretched wide. Orion looked down, and saw the hoof-shaped dent now on the stalls’ door.    
  
Ratchet spotted Orion and took a steadying breath, dusting off his jacket before he waved him off. “I told you, it’s fine. I’m almost done.” And ducked down again, hidden behind the draft horses massive white haunch. 

Sighing, glancing up as the barn seemed to moan with the wind, he rested his back against a nearby wood post. A chicken pecked at his boot as it hobbled by. “This storm doesn’t seem to want to lighten up for us, does it?” he found himself asking it. It cocked its head at him. “No, it does not. Must be terrible to be cooped up when you’re a bird, hm?” 

“There!” Ratchet crowed, and the chicken fluttered its wings with a startled cry, hurrying off. “Stitched up. That should hold.” Orion looked over, watching as Ratchet stood with a groan and patted Jackhammers’ side. 

“Right. Looks real good, doc. Thanks.” Wheeljack smiled with worn eyes and playfully shook his horses head. “Ain’t you a real trouble patient, huh.That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

Stepping aside to allow the lot of them an exit, Orion touched Bulkheads’ shoulder as he passed by. Revealing the books, he pushed them towards him. “It’s not much, but I managed to dig through some old farming records. These two have accounts relating to wolves and has some… creative measures in dealing with them. The third is a sales record.” He smiled. “It seems Elsie’s grandmother was purchased in a town not far from here. It wouldn’t be a replacement, but…” 

Bulkhead smiled broadly, taking the books and tucking them in a pocket. “I’ll have to look into ‘em, then.” And threw his thick arms around Orion, yanking him into a warm hug. Orion laughed. “You’re good people, ya know?” 

“It’s just- what I can do.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


Stepping out into the deluge, Orion raised his cloak to provide shelter for himself, glancing sidelong at Ratchet. 

“Almost got brained by that horse.” Ratchet sighed over the rain, turning his exhausted bare face skyward before he, too, covered himself. “Let’s get home and out of this misery.” 

“It was nice, though.” Orion said, smiling briefly. Their boots kicked up mud and water, sucking wetly against the earth each time they hesitated to take a step for fear of waltzing into a deeper puddle. It was unpleasantly cold, near icy in the autumnal weather, and he could hardly wait to return to kick his wet feet up by the fire. 

They kicked their shoes off by the door and carried them, dripping mud all the while, over to the fireplace to dry. The barely repaired window, having been blocked in by spare wood panels, dripped water occasionally through the seams. Orion supposed a little more water damage was hardly a concern for this poor library. The light from the fireplace and lanterns set a comforting warm glow about the bookshelves, and Orion considered settling in for the evening on his workbench as he shed his cloak and let it hang on a rusty coatrack. He bent his chilled fingers, bright red like he was certain his nose and cheeks were by now, and winced as they seemed to creak in resistance. Perhaps not. 

Orion rubbed his hands together, blowing hot air into them, and followed Ratchet upstairs. Palming blindly on the table set in the kitchen, the brunette's fingers brushed against the old folklore book and he smiled, taking it gently. Ratchet set a kettle over the stove and kindled the wood, waving a few embers away with a scowl as he spread his icy fingers nearby to catch its warmth. How he had managed to sew thick horse hide so deftly in such cold conditions- Orion could only imagine. 

He stole one final glance outside, watching as a particularly nasty gust of wind blew the leaves off of scrawny branches and leave them flying uselessly away and was grateful to not have to be out there. Anyone smart would be finishing their chores by now- it was near noon- and returning home. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“-What do you  _ mean _ you were out there hunting wolves in that nonsense?!”

Orion’s eyes flew open, groping sleepily for his bedside table as he sat up with a groan. Ratchet’s voice, the shrill tone he only ever got when he was  _ really _ tearing into someone, rang clear from downstairs to his own bedroom. Smacking lips tiredly together, he slid his slippers on and leaned from his room to peer downstairs, before yawning and shuffling down there himself. 

Ratchet was hardly dressed himself, but had bristled completely and glowered with all the fury that a doctor could muster at the poor soul standing at the door. Orion didn’t know the man by name but recognized him as one of the towns’ farmers. 

“Ratchet?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, but I’m apparently dealing with idiots here!” Ratchet barely glanced at him, pointing a scarred finger accusingly at the farmer. He looked utterly befuddled, and looked to Orion. As if Orion could help him.

The librarian just shrugged helplessly.

“Cuz they would be in one place, hidin’ from the weather! It would’ve been easy with all of us!” He tried to appease Ratchet, hands held out placatingly.

Ratchet scoffed, throwing his fists out wildly. “Easy, huh? And what did you and Silas’ merry group of fools manage to do, hm? Find absolutely nothing and get three farmers ill! Do you know how dangerous pneumonia is in winter?” 

“I-”

“And! Three farmers ill, do you know how that’s going to strain my supplies? Fevers, chills, possible lung infections…”

“Ratchet.” Orion did, finally, attempt to step in. He placed broad hands over his friends’ shoulders, squeezing firmly. Ratchet relaxed. Slightly. 

The farmer sent him a brief, but extremely grateful look. “I’m just tryin’ to let you know, doc.” He whimpered, slouched and bowing his head like a scared dog would. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Orion felt his redheaded friend sigh deeply. “Give me an hour, I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Tha-”

The door was slammed in his face before he could get any proper thanks out. Orion frowned.

“Ratchet, that was rude.” 

Turning to face him, the eye Orion could see-the blue one- glinted icily. He frowned and squeezed his shoulders once more before stepping back. 

“Rude? That-” he gestured to the door, referring to the poor farmer, “was more than just rude! It was idiodic, insulting! Dangerous! Orion Pax, those fools were trying to get themselves killed!”

Orion took his flailing wrists gently and smiled. “I know. But they’ll need you, you know.” 

Ratchet scowled and snatched his hands back, muttering quietly about how he was going to be getting dressed and leaving.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


For all the patience and understanding required of doctors, Ratchet could not call himself a particularly patient or understanding man. Three farmers had fallen ill, mostly displaying the same symptoms. Fever, chills, chest congestion. He was far too furious to even speak to their stupid ringleader, Silas, who couldn’t even begin to offer up enough words to begin to soothe Ratchet’s anger. It was increasingly obvious he didn’t have enough medical supplies on hand to deal with so many ill with the same thing. Pneumonia could kill, easily, and despite the rage he felt he wasn’t willing to tell them to sweat it out and see what happened.

Normally, he would borrow Jackhammer. Though he perhaps wasn’t the biggest fan of horses, her size and her age meant traveling from town to town was a simple matter. It took a lot to spook her, and she knew the paths well enough herself so Ratchet could focus on other matters. With her injury, though, another farmer- the same one he’d given the reaming to earlier, offered his own. A younger mare named Lazy Sue. 

She was a skinny thing, a chestnut thoroughbred with ‘some fancy breed’ mixed in with her, put so eloquently and proudly by her owner. Her face was curved in a dramatic manner, neck long and elegant. Her owner even had the wherewithal to saddle her up- and so Ratchet offered a gruff thanks as he (with not much grace) stepped up onto her back. 

He rode to his and Orion’s home, first. Hopping down, Orion ran out to meet him with a frown creasing his crows feet. 

“Whose horse is that?”

“Her name is Lazy Sue.” Ratchet shrugged, making his way inside to grab his heavier coat and a second satchel. It held a knife, along with a few on the fly medical supplies, and food. “I’ll need to ride out of town to get more supplies.” 

“And you’ll be back when?”

“I doubt I’ll be long. Perhaps a day, at most.” Ratchet knew what he needed and where he ought to find it. 

Orion pursed his lips, then settled on a small smile and nodded. “Just be careful.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The forest was losing its leaves quickly. The day was cloudy and windy, roiling grey shapes above the rattling tree branches and the whisper of the leaves that remained. Ratchet gripped the reins tighter and tossed a scant look into the undergrowth, blackberry bushes losing their berries, the pawprints of animals feasting upon the leftovers and the fermented fruit all that seemed left of the forest life. Lazy Sue’s hooves smacked wetly into the remaining mud, flecks occasionally sticking onto Ratchet’s boots or her belly. It was the only sound he could hear nearby. 

By his estimates, he was only a third of the way there, the unfavorable conditions hindering the speed of the horse. Anything other than a walk would not only be unnecessary but very dangerous for the both of them, and Ratchet could tell the mud slowed her down as much as it would slow any man down.

“Can you believe those fools.” He spoke to no one- Lazy Sue’s ears turned back briefly towards him. “Hunting for wolves in that downpour. It’s no wonder they got sick, I can only imagine what Silas was thinking.” 

She snorted. 

“Exactly. A fool's errand. I have no idea why they look up to him so much-”

Lazy Sue stopped, suddenly, her lanky head swinging upright. Ratchet felt her muscles tense, saw the white of her eyes. 

“What? What is it?” 

He glanced to his left, and saw amongst the greying branches, a flash of brownish fur, there and gone again. Then, to his right, there was a snarl. Ratchet turned in time to see the yellowed teeth flashing and Lazy Sue to let out a shrieking whinny, raising onto her hind legs and lashing out with dangerous, sharp hooves. Ratchet was thrown from her back with a gasp, a foot catching in the stirrups. As he hit the wet ground with a thud, he struggled to free his leg- until the feeling of a pair of jaws on both his arm and shoulder sunk in. He threw a punch with his free arm blindly, hollering in shock. His fist landed on a nose, and one mouth let go with a startled yelp, while the other dodged behind him further, tearing deeper into his shoulder while it bounced away. Ratchet wasn’t sure whether he felt blood or mud seeping into his clothes, it was warm and cold all at once. While he tossed blindly, Lazy Sue had apparently shaken off her own attacker and took off. The wolf still bitten into his flesh was suddenly yanked from him, his shoulder the source of a hot, searing pain as Ratchet saw the sky moving swiftly. He shouted woahs, struggled to pull his front half up, feeling his back smacking into rocks and branches dangerously. Mud splattered his body and face, hooves flying dangerously close to his skull as the horse mindlessly tried to escape from its predators. He couldn’t tell where they were at all now. 

With a final, heavy yank, he finally worked his boot free from the stirrup and Ratchet’s world stopped as suddenly as it had begun moving. As he struggled to his feet quickly, he saw the raised tail of a panicked horse disappearing deeper into the brush. And behind him, he heard snarls. Ratchet sucked in a sharp breath, unable to even assess his shoulder, and took off in the mud, following the hoofprints and praying he could outrun starving wolves somehow. 

The trees, somehow, seemed older here, sprawling twisted things. Dark, ashen wood, sporting odd cracks and old damage. Things Ratchet hardly had time to asses as he realized the woods were clearing and felt a flush of relief. Lazy Sue had taken refuge in a nearby village, clearly. The wolves would stay away. 

Ratchet broke through a thorny bramble, his clothes tearing and catching, skin poked by the reaching barbs as he fell on his face. His entire body throbbed, and Ratchet moaned in pain as he struggled to lift himself back onto his feet. He could hear the haggard panting of the wolves, still behind him- but, as he finally found the strength to bring his hands beneath his body and lift- the wolves were simply staring at him. Their yellow eyes spoke of a deep, aching hunger. But they refused to move from the brambles- which seemed to encompass the entire clearing like a natural barbed fence. Greedy, twisting branches, curling out towards- the wolves eyes moved beyond Ratchet, and Ratchet followed their sharp gazes.

His gaze fell to a gothic steel gate, menacingly tall, and a stone wall, cracked and mossy. Dead vines clung uselessly to the seams. And beyond that- Ratchet thought he may be dying of blood loss. Beyond that, a positively massive castle. It seemed to be crumbling where it stood, as if before his eyes, the muddy ground would open up and swallow it whole. A few spiral towers had already collapsed. 

Ratchet got to his feet, gawking, and thought to spare one last look at the wolves. They were gone. 

This hadn’t been here until today- had it? 

Ratchet swallowed thickly. He was in no state to simply go walking away. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The uneasy feeling about the castle didn’t go away as he approached. It was as if a sickly black cloud clung to it. The clearing, he found, as he stumbled his way to the gate, wasn’t much of a clearing at all. He tripped over what appeared to be ancient guns, the wood bodies cracked and full of insect life and plants, the metal rusted and crumbling away. In the distance, there were spokes and wheels stuck out of the mud. It was a haunting farce of nature attempting to take over, like the castle exuded evil that choked all life and kept anything smart out of it.

Ratchet pushed the old, creaky gate open and prayed he was just high on adrenaline. 

The yard seemed marginally more inviting. Marginally. He glanced at a few old, cracked fountains, full of stagnant water and surely, when the summer months came, buzzing with mosquitos. There were rose bushes, massive, tall ornate flower pots containing dead trees, and what appeared to be a hedge maze in the distance. 

The intimidatingly tall wooden door was opened on its hinge when Ratchet approached and opened easily, shedding the scant light from the outside into the depths of the castle. 

Ratchet swallowed. “Hello? Is anybody here?” 

No, clearly not. But what else could he say? 

Glancing at the ceiling, which hung formerly beautiful chandeliers (now missing pieces, and coated with dust) and ornithopters which seemed to glower at Ratchet as he stumbled deeper in, their eyes following him with great scrutiny. No, they couldn’t do that.

They were just objects.

Ratchet tore his muddy, bloody cloak off as he groped blindly for some source of light. Perhaps there was a fire pit he could light, use to keep some spare candles lit. There was certainly a wealth of candle holders and candelabras alike- though, at a closer look, they seemed suspiciously devoid of the same dirt other parts of the castle was. 

But there couldn’t be anyone cleaning them, clearly. 

“What a mess.” Ratchet grumbled, and grabbed the nearest one. Shimmering red alternating black stripes across what may have been a brassy candelabra beneath all the color. A bit gaudy, maybe, but it would do. Ratchet had no business about the questionable tastes of the royalty. He spotted an archway that seemed to lead into a small room and began shuffling towards it, the deep, deep ache of the bite beginning to truly settle into his body. The throb coursed from shoulder to arm, and lit up the bites he had nearly forgotten about on his lower radius. 

The room he ambled into seemed to be a sort of reading room, a few bookshelves outlining a fireplace and a large armchair. It, too, was suspiciously dust-free. Clawmarks seemed dug into the arms. Clearly, some animals trying to reach the soft stuffing inside.

The fireplace, though- it wasn’t lit, but it’s wood still glowed with lava-like embers. The room was warm, much warmer than most of the castle had been. Ratchet swallowed and grabbed the poker and roused the wood, seeing the embers spark and grab hungrily onto the shifting chips. 

“Hello?” he tried again, voice quieter, crackling with unease. There was no answer. As he reached into his satchel and felt around for the handle of his knife, Ratchet angled the candelabra towards the burning embers to light its wicks. 

“ _ Hey _ ! What do you think you’re doing!?” 

Ratchet startled, immediately dropping it and pulling his knife out with a bloodsoaked hand, looking around wildly. “Who’s there?!” 

“Ouch. Not enough to manhandle me, is it? Going to try to singe me as well? Look at this, you’ve gotten blood all over me. Disgusting.” 

He turned, slowly. The candelabra was looking at him- quite offendedly. 

“I’m dying.” Ratchet wheezed. 

“Mm, you might be.” the candelabra answered, tapping one candle to its- chin?- thoughtfully. “Nasty, that.” The redhead collapsed onto his ass ungracefully and stared, dumbly. It clapped its- hands?- and rubbed them together almost gleefully. “Lucky for you, I can probably help. Aren’t I nice?” It hopped closer to him and Ratchet hissed, brandishing the knife. “Okay, big guy, that’s very unnecessary. You got blood all over me and I’m trying to help you, and this is how you repay me?” 

“You can’t talk.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware.” It rifled through his satchel, before brandishing its hand. Candle. Whatever. “Give me your cloak. Make a nice tourniquet and see what else we can do here. Or else you really will be dying, and to be frank, I’m not willing to deal with the cleanup.” 

Ratchet swallowed. He handed it his cloak. With an entirely unexpected strength and deftness, it tore a wide chunk that wasn’t entirely muddied and gestured for Ratchet to show him his arm. 

“Do you… What else do you do?”

The candelabra snorted. “Take me out for a few drinks and maybe you’ll find out.” And winked as it tightened the makeshift tourniquet. “My name is Knock Out.” 

“I… I’m Ratchet.” He was dying, and a candelabra was flirting with him. But he could accept that, he supposed. 

“Now you’ve done it!” Ratched jumped nearly another foot when a second voice suddenly cut through the silence, hollering and raspy. “I told you to stay quiet!” 

“What, he was going to burn me! Besides, he’s harmless.” Knock Out seemed entirely nonplussed. “Shut up and let me finish my job, your whinging helps no one.”

“I am not whinging!” 

Knock Out made a show out of mimicking, badly, the mouth movements of the particularly perturbed birch clock that hopped its way around the corner to scowl. “If you’re going to sit there, Starscream, at least go and get me the boiling water and help me.”

Ratchet stared at the clock. It glared at him. 

A nearby coatrack, entirely wordlessly, bent as if it wasn’t made out metal and grasped a cast iron kettle that had been perched over the fire, and set it on the ground. 

“Thank you! At least someone around here isn’t useless.” Knock Out snorted and ignited a wick, seemingly of his own will, and brandished it meanly at Starscream. The wood clock stumbled back with a yelp. 

“Useless? I’m letting you explain this situation to our master, then! I’m having absolutely no part of it.” 

“What- Could-” Ratchet found his voice. “Can someone explain to me, exactly, what is going on?”

“Oh, you know, sad and sordid tales. It’s a cursed castle.” Knock Out soaked a washcloth in the hot water. “ _ We _ are cursed servants.”

Starscream coughed. 

“... And cursed morons.”

“I am your superior officer-”

“And very flammable, dear commander.” He placed the washrag on the bitemark on Ratchet’s arm. “We are cursed servants, soldiers, prisoners, what have you, serving a cursed master, while our castle falls apart around us.” 

“Cursed.” Ratchet said quietly. He hardly felt the sting anymore.

“Yes. By the fae.”

“By the fae.” 

“Perfect. See, no need to be so…” Knock Out shrugged, “panicked. We don’t bite.”

“But our master does.” Starscream muttered. 

Knock Out paused. “We’ll deal with that when we get there.”

Ratchet felt the unease coming back. “How long has this… been here?”

“Who knows by now. The outside world isn’t able to reach us. Usually.” Starscream deigned to finally speak to him again, it seemed, slinking closer like a curious, but scared, cat. “Long enough to be forgotten. Long enough for the castle to start to rot.” 

Ratchet noticed, as he looked up, a small crowd had gathered. Birdlike feather dusters, more candelabras, teapots, teacups, footstools. Watching curiously, walking, floating. Alive. “Ah.” 

It fell to silence, broken only by occasional curious whispers and hushes, as Knock Out waved him onto his back and set to work cleaning the shoulder wound. “The magic does have a few perks. You should be good to get out of here before nightfall.” Raising a brow, Ratchet craned his neck and saw, with a shock, the bite on his arm was closing. Knock Out smirked.

“Good. That snitch Soundwave has probably already seen him.”

“Now, now, commander, calling others snitches is very rude coming from you.” 

The birch clock scowled. “I’m leaving you to deal with his anger. I had no hand in this. Get him out of here as soon as possible; I told you to let him bleed out.” Was all he said, returning to standing at a distance. 

“You’ll… have to forgive him.” Knock Out sighed. 

Ratchet felt out of his depth. He just nodded. He wasn’t sure how much time had slid by as he laid on that floor, hearing the whispers and movements of animate objects, all seemingly coming by to get a look at him, his wounds covering up as if by magic. Was he cursed, having come here? Would the touch of the fae follow him to his town, haunt him and Orion? Was he dead, did he hit his head on a rock during his horses mad dash? 

The sharp not-quite-clap of Knock Out’s not-quite-hands startled him from his musings. “I think that should do it. You’ll be able to make your way home.” 

Ratchet sat up with a groan and looked at himself. Bloody, dirty, but alive. His wounds, visible, but not gaping or oozing blood. 

“Follow me, out to the garden.” Knock Out hopped- with surprising speed, towards the archway he had stumbled into only so long ago. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It seemed darker outside, not by much, but the clouds were heavy with rain. The wind held a chill, promising winter would be closing its grasp on them soon. 

“Down there, past the rosebushes.” Knock Out pointed, “There is a path. Our master takes it for his… travels. The wolves know to stay away from it, and it should lead you straight to where you came from.” Ratchet could spot a huge break in the bushes and brambles and nodded. Silvery fur seemed stuck in the thorns. 

“Er- thank you.”

Knock Out smiled, puffing out his chest. “You’re welcome! Now, hurry. We do have snitches about the castle and our master isn’t the forgiving type.” 

Ratchet grasped his things and ran. 

The forest seemed to swallow him up once more, the thorns pulling at his clothes before he shook them off. The path was wide and trampled down, marked by absolutely massive pawprints. They dwarfed Ratchet’s shoes easily. He picked up the pace. 

He would get home, and he would forget about this. He would find another way to get the medical supplies he needed, one that didn’t require dealing with starving wolves and spooky horses. He would see Orion and feel finally at ease and know for a fact we wasn’t dead. 

Ratchet should have known better than to assume he was home free after the magnificent travesty his day had been. 

A furious roar bellowed out from behind him, like nothing he had ever heard before, and he didn’t even look behind him. Everything about it told his legs to run. Ratchet let out a startled cry and took off, hearing heavy panting, and even heavier footfalls, rattling the branches and snapping them clean off as whatever it was thundered by at a great speed. Ratchet scrambled for his knife, feeling panic bubbling in his throat. No, no! This couldn’t happen, he had to get back, he had so much he needed to do! 

His foot caught a sprawling root and he fell into the mud, rolling onto his back with wide eyes. He saw dirtied silver fur, brindled with deep royal purple, and a huge, scarred, bearlike head. It’s snout was long and sharp, gnarled teeth poking from behind shining black lips. It’s red eyes were like hellfire, curled rams horns glinting in the dull light, breath coming out in visible steaming puffs. 

As its snarling maw lowered to Ratchet’s body, he felt a flush of anger- whatever it was, it was an animal- and pulled his fist back and landed soundly on it’s wet, sensitive nose.

The beast reeled back with a snarl, pawing at its face and spitting curses as Ratchet struggled to get to his feet. A passive paw landed on his chest as he slipped in the mud and pressed him deeper into the in, its claws wrapping around him as it faced him on its hind legs. Effortlessly, the beast lifted Ratchet from the mud and took a look at him, head turning from side to side. 

Intelligence glinted in those hellfire eyes. 

“A trespasser with some fight in him.” It snarled in a raspy, low voice. “What a surprise.” Ratchet’s throat dried up. It’s grip on him tightened. “Too bad you couldn’t run faster than me.” Its maw twisted into an equally twisted smirk. 

Ratchet’s blood ran cold as it turned. 

Back to the castle.


	4. step into the light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whatever fairy tales are made of, it certainly isn't this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE. i'm very pleased with his chapter, so i hope everyone enjoys our beauty finally meeting the beast! feat. lovely art from my friend riza <3 <3 i've been sitting on it for ages now... i'm so happy to finally use it.

It looked like it might rain. As Orion gripped the worn windowsill to peer out, he frowned. Hopefully, Ratchet was well on his way. It would be a fruitless exercise to travel all that way in the rain, only for himself to get sick from the cold. Shaking his head, he turned and settled back at his desk. 

Orion was ready to let his work pass the time by for the next few hours as he waited. It was always easier that way. He would sew the pages back in, re-apply the cover with fresh glue and leave it in the press, and move on to another. Before he knew it, it would be evening, Ratchet would have returned, and they could settle in for the evening to listen to the rain. Yes, Orion thought as he smiled to himself, not a bad night after all. 

Not moments after he’d settled, there was a knock at the door.

Orion groaned.

“Coming!”

Opening the door, he found Silas there waiting for him. 

“May I come in?” He flashed a handsome smile, peering inside the old library. Orion drummed his fingers against the edge of the door. 

“I wasn’t expecting any visitors. I-I’m actually a little preoccupied.” He admitted, frowning. 

Silas regarded that (he wasn’t deaf, Orion knew) but leaned into the door. “I’d just like to talk for a moment.”

“If you’d like me to butter you up to Ratchet, I’m afraid I won’t do that.” Orion puffed out his chest. “He’s quite right to be upset at you, you know.” 

“That codger? Don’t worry, Orion, I’m not interested in him.” 

The brunet’s scowl deepened. “Codger? Now, listen here, Ratchet is my friend.” He said, voice a little shrill as he jabbed a finger at Silas. “I’m a little too caught up in my own job to give you whatever it is you’re interested in right now, Silas.” Orion clicked his tongue in annoyance, ducking his head down. “I’m sorry, I’m really not-” 

There was a flash of chestnut in his peripheral vision before he finished. Orion’s eyes widened, shooting upright and practically pushing Silas aside. 

Lazy Sue, eyes stretched wide in terror, skidded to a halt. Her saddle was empty, reigns threw over her head. Ears pinned back, she snorted and tossed her head, hooves clicking as she paced. 

Orion rushed over to grab her reins before she could bolt again, tugging them so she had to look down at him. “Oh no.” He frowned, glancing over his shoulder as Silas approached. 

“She could have been spooked by anything.” He murmured. 

“But Ratchet’s not there. He could be in the forest, hurt, or worse.” Orion grit his teeth, placing his foot in the nearest stirrup to fling his legs onto the saddle. “I have to go find him.”

Silas grabbed him by the arm. Orion sucked in a sharp breath and met his dark eyes with a desperate expression. 

“Let go of me. I need to go.” 

“It’s dangerous!” 

“I know it is!” Orion clenched his fist, and tore his arm back. “I can’t just do nothing.” 

A raindrop splashed on his nose and he panted, staring hard at Silas. The silver haired man said nothing. 

Orion flung his cloak over his shoulders. He nudged Lazy Sue, and steered her off into the forest at a trot. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The deeper they went, the more nervous Lazy Sue got. Orion didn’t blame her. If she spooked and kicked him off, he may be as good as stuck for hours. 

The rain was beginning to come down. The trees and bushes rattled in the wind. And, the prints left in the mud were already washing away. 

“Come on. Come on, we have to keep going.” Orion whispered to her, clicking his tongue to keep her moving. Her ears flicked from side to side, the whites of her eyes still visible. He cast his gaze down to the muddy path. There were nothing but hoofprints. Then, there was a huge, muddy imprint, vaguely human sized. That was where Lazy Sue froze, letting out a panicked whinny. 

Orion’s blood ran cold when he saw the huge, muddy paw print of a wolf. “Oh, no.” Suddenly, the darker spots of mud looked suspiciously like blood to him. Torn pieces of clothing was stuck to the bushes a ways down the line, following the trail of a deep groove into the mud. 

He’d been dragged. By the wolves? He glanced at Lazy Sue and urged her forward. “Yah! Come on!” 

She paced, looking from side to side, as if she expected the wolves to come lunging at them at any second. Orion bit his lip. “I’m sorry!” He said to her as he gave her haunch a sharp spank. 

Lazy Sue bolted, panicked. Orion ducked against her, the branches whipping past him. Rain hit his face, stinging like needles. Thunder crackled overhead. The forest tore past him in a blur, mud kicking up and sticking to his pants and boots and Lazy Sue’s chestnut fur. 

When she came to a sudden halt with a shrill whinny, it nearly threw Orion off her back. He let out a cry and fumbled, grasping her reins tight as he struggled to not slip off over her neck. “Shh, sh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He tried to reassure her. She was breathing hard, the rain shimmering like sweat on her hide. 

He sat back on her saddle, glancing down at the muddy ground. Footprints lead into a bush-line or brambles. 

Nudging her sides, Lazy Sue whinnied unhappily, but trudged forward. 

Eyes following the trail, swallowing, he gave pause as they broke through into the clearing. Ratchet’s footsteps lead up to a massive gate, and as he swept his gaze up to take it in, Orion felt his heart stutter. The huge castle that loomed over the forest seemed to be in disrepair, surrounded by debris and nothing but mud. 

“I guess we’re going in.” He whispered softly, hopping off Lazy Sue’s back. 

The courtyard was even less inviting. Clearly, this place had been abandoned long ago, and the chilly wind at Orion’s back didn’t make him feel welcome at all. He swallowed and tied the horse off at a thin stone post that had once held some sort of round ornamentation which had crumbled and collapsed to the ground long ago. The stone ornament had sunken halfway into the mud, moss climbing its sides. 

“I’ll be back soon.” He said, because Lazy Sue was the only thing here that could hear him. He needed to speak to someone, or he might let the prickle of fear chase him off. 

Making his way up the stone steps, Orion saw sizable drops of blood besides Ratchet’s muddy footprints. He hurried faster, opening the great wooden door with a grunt. 

The dusty tile floor did little to hide the trail, from the entrance to what appeared to be a small study. As Orion peered into the dim room, it was clear Ratchet had laid on the floor. The smears had left a vaguely Ratchet-sized imprint. But- but there was no body. 

“Ratchet?” Orion called out, nervous. The castle was silent. The fireplace was cold and empty. He gathered his cloak about himself tighter and shuffled out of the room, looking about for any other hints of his friend. He may have left the room in search of other medical supplies if he had been bleeding. 

But the castle was dark, and the light outside was beginning to fade, and Orion was beginning to wish he had a lantern with him. Anything to light the way. 

It was growing so dark he almost missed _it_. 

Orion paused, then squinted, kneeling to the icy marble. There, beside his hand, was a huge pawprint. The sight of it nearly made his heart stop. Easily, it dwarfed his own not inconsequential hand. The muddy print was topped with long, sharp claws and- it led upstairs. Orion followed them to a formerly magnificent stairwell.

The wind blustered outside the castle as he hesitated. Then, putting one foot in front of the other, he began trudging upstairs. Quieter, this time, still calling for Ratchet. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orion clasped the edge of his cloak nervously as he made his way to the landing. There were still yet more stairs, a diverging path. One lead to a tall, opulent hallway, doors lining the wall. The other lead to a spire, wood and granite becoming a rugged old stone stairwell. The pawsteps lead up to the spire. 

“Ratchet? Oh, Ratchet please.” Orion whimpered softly, mostly to himself. 

He was beginning to feel like he was being watched. Like there were whispers being spoken about him in the breeze. 

Clearly, the haunting atmosphere of the castle was getting to him. 

As he glanced over his shoulder, down the winding stairs, he frowned. But, surely, that ornithopter wasn’t there before?

A shudder raced through him before he gathered himself up and hurried towards the spire. 

The corridor was uncomfortably tight, making it hard for him to see what was ahead. The feeling of being watched didn’t go away. In fact, Orion thought, as he glanced away from a rusty, grated window, he thought he saw a flickering light up ahead. 

“Hello?” He called, voice wavering. “Is anyone up there?” 

The light, it seemed, had heard him, because it began moving away. Orion gaped. “Hey…! Wait a minute, I just need to talk!”

There was a hushed argument being had, but Orion could barely catch any words. 

“I’m looking for my friend. H-he’s in this castle, I think.” 

“Don’t you dare-” “What, he’s not going away-” “Do you have a deathwish-” “Two birds one stone, we get them both out, I thought you _wanted_ them out!”

Orion paused as a hush fell over the room. It was a prison chamber of some sorts. Yet- there was no one there. “Hello? Is anyone there?” 

“Orion?” Came a weary, familiar voice.

Orion gasped, rushing over to the cell. Ratchet, clothes bloody and wet and looking worse for wear stared back at him with wide eyes. 

“Ratchet! Oh, thank god you’re okay.” He gasped, reaching through the bars. “What on earth happened here? Let’s get you home, fast, this place is-”

“This place is cursed, Orion. You need to leave, now.” Ratchet grabbed his hand tightly.

Orion frowned. “What? No, I’m not leaving without you. You have patients in Iacon, remember? Come on.” He grasped the bars and pulled roughly. “There has to be some way to get you out.”

“No, no, Orion, just listen to me. Get the medicine for me, there’s a doctor where I was going, he can help-”

Orion swallowed. “Ratchet, please, don’t talk like that. Come on…!” He tugged more urgently, seeking a weak bar he could pull out, a loose stone he might be able to bash into them. 

Ratchet fell silent, his knuckles white against the bars. “Orion.” 

His next yank had Orion tumbling onto his ass with a grunt. The words in his throat died away when he saw the pale, dire look upon Ratchet’s face. The prison cell was silent. There was only the sound of water dripping into mouldy puddles. Then, the quiet, distinctive drag of long claws on stone. 

Orion’s blood froze. His pupils were blown wide as he tried to think, push past the terror of someone clearly dangerous behind him. But Orion hardly got the chance. He nearly shrieked when a huge hand seized his shoulder. It spun him around with a furious snarl, backing into shadow. 

**“What are you doing here?!”** Roared the stranger, his shadow a towering thing. Orion wasn’t sure if his fear was playing tricks on him, but he could swear he saw his eyes glinting in the dark. Like a cat.

“Get away from him!” Ratchet snarled, suddenly right against the rusty bars and reaching his burly arms out around Orion.

Orion’s mouth was dry. He swallowed, and stilled the tremor in his throat, “Who- who are you.” He asked the shadow.

“The master of this castle.” The stranger rasped, clearly seeing no need to elaborate.

“I… I came because I was looking for my friend. Our village needs him. Without him, some good men will die of sickness.”

The scrape of sharp talons made Orion’s spine shiver. This shape- it couldn’t be human. It may stand on its hind legs, it may talk- but no human looked like that. 

“Your friend should have thought about that before trespassing.” Came the snarl. “I care not for whatever village you hail from. He is my prisoner. Leave this place before you join him.” The steady click-click of his footsteps seems to be fading, leaving.

Orion clenched his fist. He leapt to his trembling legs. “Wait!” When the shadow before him did just that, freezing in place, head craning over to Orion, he felt his confidence falter. “Wait. Let me take his place.”

Ratchet grabbed his muddy pants leg tightly. “Orion. No, I’ll be fine.” He whispered.

But the shadow gave pause. Its form turned to fully face Orion. “Oh? You would do that for this man?” It asked, tone between mocking and interest. Probing him. His resolve.

Orion nodded. “I would.” 

“Even if I ask you to stay here? Forever?” It slunk closer. “Until your dying breath?”

Orion narrowed his eyes as the shape cocked its head, lowering onto its monstrous forelimbs. 

“Come into the light.” He whispered softly, the last of the light filtering in from above.

There was a snort, then, a paw shuffled forward. Then another. Orion could only stare with wide eyes as a brindled monster was bathed in the pale light. It was nearly double Orion’s size as it stood onto its hindlimbs. Shaggy greyish fur padded the creatures body, mottled with dusky purple stripes. His forearms were monstrous, thicker than the wood Orion chopped for their fireplace, and tipped with daggerlike claws. His head was sloped slightly, wide and bearish, with small tattered ears on either side and topped with curling rams horns. Black lips barely concealed a mouthful of sharp teeth, and not at all the curled tusks around his maw. But the worst of all, were the eyes. Bloody, hellish red. Orion saw the picture from nights ago, the way firelight had played on the page as he sat comfortable in his home.

“You.” He breathed, silent. Ratchet’s nails dug into his leg through his trousers. “You. You have my word.” He said, gazing up at the beast.

“Orion, don’t!” Ratchet’s voice was fringed with desperation. 

“Done.” Briskly, the beast brushed past him and pushed him aside, unlocking the cell. Ratchet tumbled forward to Orion and grabbed his arm. Orion hugged him tightly, relief flooding him.

“I-I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.” He whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Ratchet or himself. 

“Orion, don’t be ridiculous, you’ll die here!”

“They need you there! Please, Ratchet, take care of everyone.” Orion fumbled, so much to say with so little time. The beast seemed disinterested in their final goodbyes as he grabbed Ratchet’s shoulder roughly and dragged him away from Orion.

To Ratchet’s credit, he kicked out with a growl, squeezing Orion’s arm as he was pulled away. Orion’s stomach sunk as their fingers brushed and Ratchet was gone around the corner. “Ratchet!” 

“Orion! Let go of me, you overgrown dog!” 

Orion stumbled to his feet to try to peer out the small window as Ratchet’s voice disappeared, shouting obscenities all the while. He couldn’t see anything in the fading light, and it was then that the silence became crushing. 

Here, forever. 

The brunet sunk to his knees, staring blankly at the floor. What had he gotten himself into? What had he done?

A few moments later, the steady clicking of the beasts claws startled him. He was returning up the stairwell, this time with a light in tow. Orion sucked in a sharp breath and wiped his watery eyes, turning to face the cell. He had given his word. As he shuffled towards it, the light of a candle bathed the dark tower in a flickering light as he stood by its rusted cell doors. 

Orion stared quietly at the beast. He regarded him with unreadable red eyes. 

Then, glanced down the stairwell. “Follow me.” 

Confused, Orion sputtered, “I thought-”

“If you would rather stay up here and pity yourself, fine.” His black lips pulled away from his teeth. 

Orion leered at him uncertainly. His heart was pounding. His head hurt. Everything hurt. He wrapped his cloak around himself and nodded, shuffling closer.

With a grunt, the beast began making his way back downstairs. Orion swallowed and followed after him briskly. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


Orion trailed a few lengths behind him, partially out of fear, but partially out of desire to take in as much as this strange castle as he could. They had made their way down the ornate hallway Orion had seen before. Its rug was dusty and worn, but he could see that it had once been a beautiful red, purple, and gold. Things seemed to be moving in the dark beyond the candlelight. Orion could swear an ornithopter was staring at him. It looked as if it was the same one he had seen earlier. He swallowed thickly and walked a little faster. 

Almost begrudgingly, the beast broke the silence. “This castle will be your home now. You are free to do whatever it is you’d like.” He paused and turned to give Orion a piercing stare that froze the man in his tracks. “Except for going into the west wing. It is forbidden. Do you understand?” 

Orion nodded quickly. 

A low growl rumbled out of his throat as he turned and began walking once more. 

As Orion watched his massive, shaggy shoulders move, he found a spark of courage. “You… Your name. What is your name?” 

“... Megatron.” 

“I saw you. In a book, once.” 

“I am a legend, yes.” There was something like twisted pride in his voice. “Now. I do believe that trespassing friend of your said your name a thousand times like a blithering fool, but tell me. What is  _ your _ name?”

“I am Orion. Orion Pax.” 

Megatron swept aside, placing his great paw against a beautiful, pale door with gilded carvings adorning every inch of its wood. “Orion Pax. This will be your room.” He rumbled, setting the candelabra down. “My servants will attend to you.” Orion barely had time to think  _ what servants? _ when the candle  _ looked _ up at him with red eyes and waved. Orion yelped. “Knock Out will be your….” Megatron’s lips curled, “guard. Won’t you?” 

Knock Out swallowed. “Yes, o-of course, my lord.” 

“Good.” Megatron grunted, his tail flicking. He brushed past them without another word, dipping onto all fours and taking off at a gallop. His heavy pawsteps disappeared down the inky black hall. 

Orion looked hesitantly at the candelabra. “What _are_ you?”

“You said you saw our lord in a book, did you?” Knock Out hopped to the door and gestured for Orion to head inside. “What did you think happened to all those poor servants, then?” 

“Oh, dear.” Orion swallowed, stepping inside the room. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You aren’t the lug who cursed us.” Knock Out blinked and chuckled nervously. “You didn’t hear that from me, of course.” 

Orion hesitated as he stared at the bedroom; it was spacious indeed. Two large, arched windows revealed what seemed to be a balcony outside. The bed was huge and looked so plush Orion wasn’t sure were to begin clambering upon it. Much less in his dingy, torn, muddy clothes. 

Swallowing nervously, Orion turned to face Knock Out. He nearly doubled back in shock to see a small crowd of similarly animate objects hanging just outside the door. Including- that damned ornithopter.  


“Is… Is the bathtub alive too? I’d… I’d like to take a bath.” Orion finally squeaked, ears turning a little hot.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments+kudos feed the dog who types these stories at her keyboard!


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